At my annual review, my boss informed me that he wanted me to do more writing. I cannot remember the last time I put out a column for our section. I’m just going to go with: that time I kayaked on my front lawn. Sounds good enough.

Formulating thoughts for a column, especially limited to a certain scope of topics, isn’t easy. Then, finding the time to put it together amongst the photos, events, occasional feature stories… It gets slid to the back burner.

We then got talking about running with a stroller and how it’s a whole new world in comparison to a solo run. There are strong numbers in stroller runners here in our area, and we tend to see them frequently at road race events we are at. One father runs with a double stroller, both toddlers tucked in tight. He’s a top-5 finisher. Once he is done with the race, he’ll run back through the course, find his wife, and finish it with her.

He definitely makes it look easy. And here’s how I officially discovered that.

Your brain on your first stroller run:

Oh, it’s such a nice day today! FINALLY! My legs are itchy, let’s get out and get moving!

Do we have everything? Binky, check. Blankets, check. Burp cloth for accidents, check. House keys, check. Phone, check. Water, check. Should I just bring the damn diaper bag? What about my debit card in case we have to get something in town? Sigh…

...and you’re off! (At this point, you’ve set your phone up with a HIIT timer to help you keep a tempo going)

Then, as you’re strolling up the driveway, leaning on top of the stroller, peeking down through the plastic window at your sleeping bundle of joy in his puffy blue snowsuit, tucked in cozy with a blanket that might heat the entire North Pole (it’s winter, snowy and frigid)… You find yourself, as much as the entire experience sucked, patting your back.